Of Hallows and Hollow Hearts
by TheVeiledsatyr
Summary: How would the trio's 7th year have been different if something went terribly wrong at Bill and Fleur's wedding? A Deathly Hallows reimagining with a twist.
1. A Weasley Wedding

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and it's characters belong to J.K Rowling.

Warnings: This is currently rated T for dashes of colourful language here and there. As the story progresses these warnings may be subject to change.

* * *

Even in the darkest of times, hope can be found. The hope of building a life with someone. The hope of making a difference in war. The hope of seeing the next sunrise.

The days seemed to both drag and rush them towards an uncertain oblivion, although that may have been due to the fear that gripped them all. Everyone knew that no matter what the end would bring, life would change inexorably.

Perhaps that was why, amidst the planning for Harry's relocation and the minor skirmishes with various Death Eaters, Bill and Fleur's wedding was so eagerly looked forward to.

It seemed that anyone who had ever had any contact with the bride and groom would attend, and Mrs. Weasley had planned the event down to the last dessertspoon.

As the wedding day inched ever closer, the entire Weasley family – including the recently arrived Harry and Hermione – had been hustled into preparation mode.

With the garden weeded, pruned and de-gnomed, the house re-painted, and the marquee and Apparition points set up, everyone was feeling overworked and in much need of relaxation.

The Weasley siblings and Harry had begun a game of 3-on-4 Quidditch in the lower paddock, and even Arthur and Molly had taken time out to sunbathe and cheer on whichever side was currently winning.

The only person not relaxing was Hermione.

In the few moments she had free from cleaning, baking, and assisting with decorations, she had been busy making preparations of her own. As optimistic as she might be, logic and realism always won out. She would not leave anything to chance, not with so much to lose.

It was not in her nature to shy away from the hard choices that logic demanded. Obliviating her parents was certainly testament to that. Her whole life gone in the blink of an eye. To them, she had never been born. Birthdays, Christmases, Sunday afternoons.

She was now the sole holder of a lifetime's worth of family memories. Her parents now had a different past, one that she had no part in.

She hoped it would be enough to keep them safe.

Her focus had to be on Harry and Ron now.

She had been packing for days, whenever she had been alone and could risk being caught. Ginny had come close once, and Hermione suspected that she knew their plans to leave. If Harry had not told her, well, Ginny was always the perceptive type, and sharing a room meant that hiding anything important was a nigh on impossible task.

Her own belongings had already been packed, her books sorted into alphabetized stacks in the bottom of her bag, and basic first aid potions stocked. The tent and sleeping bags had been stuck in from the attic, where the family ghoul had been very pleased to see her, and anything else she had deemed suitable was quietly borrowed on her nightly excursions to the bathroom.

All she had left to pack were Harry and Ron's personal items. Clothes, toothbrushes, Harry's invisibility cloak. Those items would have to wait until just before the wedding, as she had yet to inform the boys of her head start on packing.

She still hoped it would not be needed.

OoXoO

The wedding had gone off without a hitch. The bride was beautiful, the groom was dashing, the guests cried tears of happiness, and nothing untoward was caused by the Weasley twins. This, of course, made everyone more suspicious than ever.

After Hermione had performed a Specialis Revelio charm on her smoked salmon blini to check for 'hexes, charms, and things that shouldn't be there', the rest of the guests had wisely adopted her initiative. Mrs. Weasley had insisted that the food had been under her watchful eye all day and the twins hadn't been near it, but it seemed nobody was willing to take that chance; especially after the first guest that ate an orange macaroon biscuit sprouted a duck bill and began to quack the national anthem.

Fred and George, having had their food prank thwarted, were busy preparing for phase two of the night's revelries. They had slipped off in the middle of the drunken and steadily incomprehensible speeches given by both the father of the groom and the father of the bride, in order to set up an array of their specialty fireworks.

Fred crouched in a darkened corner of the marquee, waiting to give the signal to George, who was positioned outside to light the fuses. As the merriment dragged on, he found his gaze scan over the crowd until it came to settle on the form of Hermione Granger.

Standing with Harry and Ron, and in deep conversation with Loony Lovegood and her eccentric father, the petite witch outshone her companions. Her figure hugging lilac dress accentuated curves that Fred had never noticed beneath her usual baggy Muggle clothes or loose robes, and the knee length bared her shapely legs and creamy skin. He couldn't help but appreciate how her teenage years had been kind to her.

A loud cough from behind him pulled his attention back to the task at hand, and he shook his head free from thoughts of a less than appropriately dressed bookworm.

"Fred!" George hissed, "What's taking so bloody long?"

"Sorry mate, got distracted," said Fred, blushing slightly. He was thankful that his brother couldn't see him from behind the thin canvas of the marquee.

"Well, pay attention. Have they started dancing yet?" George asked.

Fred looked over to the dance floor where Bill and Fleur were stepping up to their first dance, hand in hand.

"Just about. Better light the fuses now," Said Fred.

He heard a mumbled "Incendio," and a moment later George crawled under the canvas and sat on his haunches next to Fred, a wicked grin threatening to split his face in half. Fred shot back an identical grin, and in one fluid motion they split up to mingle in amongst the gathered guests.

The hired band struck up a popular wizard-wedding tune, and the newlyweds began to spin gracefully on the dance floor to collective sighs and 'awws' from the guests.

Loud bangs from the garden alerted Fred and George to their success, and the two brothers sent each other looks of satisfaction through the crowd, as the night sky was lit up in a dazzling display.

OoXoO

Hermione had to hand it to Fred and George. They certainly knew how to make a scene. After their rather impressive fireworks, she found herself appreciating their inventive skill and impeccable timing. They had set the fireworks off precisely at the moment Bill and Fleur had finished their first dance. All the guests had thought it was a planned part of the ceremony, and the walls of the marquee had been removed so the view could be easily seen and the fireworks admired thoroughly.

Harry had muttered to Hermione that Fred and George could have brought an entire swarm of Death Eaters upon them by advertising their location, but luckily for the twins, the night air remained undisturbed.

Mrs. Weasley was too happy with the wedding to do much more than frown in the young men's direction, whilst Mr. Weasley held back a laugh and proceeded to pull his wife on to the golden dance floor, spinning her around and eliciting a girlish giggle from the generally tight-laced woman.

Ron had pulled Hermione off to dance when Victor Krum had settled himself at their table, and she watched over Ron's shoulder as Harry spoke to Krum in soft discussion.

She felt a flash of irritation with her dance partner for having dragged her away from the conversation; she hadn't seen Victor in years and felt some guilt over having lost contact with him. She wondered if jealousy was the cause of Ron's sudden desire to dance, but brushed the thought off. Ron had never made any move to initiate a relationship with her, no matter how often she may have wished for it.

Luna Lovegood was dancing beside Hermione and Ron, looking as if she were batting insects around her head and seemingly lost in a daydream. George had pulled one of the Veela cousins on to the dance floor and was busy showing her some rather odd moves of his own, and Ginny was swaying side to side with Lee Jordan, a glass of something that was certainly not pumpkin juice in her hand.

As the night drew on, the couples dancing around them had either bowed out gracefully or had became gradually more gregarious and flamboyant. Hermione herself had begged off dancing and sat down at an empty table, leaving Ron to dance with Luna, who seemed very surprised to have a dancing partner.

Looking for Harry, Hermione spotted his disguised form talking to an elderly wizard, and she decided against interrupting his conversation with the man.

Lost in her thoughts, she startled as a figure sat down in the chair beside her.

"Hullo, Hermione," Fred greeted, grinning from ear to ear and looking flushed from dancing.

"Hello, Fred. You look like you've been enjoying yourself," she said with a smile, taking in his ruffled hair and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"And you look far too lonely over here by yourself, Miss Granger."

"So you thought you would cheer me up, did you?"

"The thought did cross my mind. You look smashing in that dress by the way," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her and leaning in to whisper in her ear.

"Flatterer," she said, giving him a small smile and pushing him away, "Whatever it is you want, don't think you can butter me up. We all know the fireworks were down to you and George."

"Added a nice touch to the evening, don't you think?" he said with a smirk, "So what do you say, have a dance with me?"

"I don't know that I've had enough to drink to take up an offer like that, Fred," she teased.

Fred's smile dropped slightly, "I'm only asking for a dance, Hermione. You're the prettiest girl here you know, stun me if I wanted people to see you on my arm."

She raised an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips. "Now I know you must be up to something, it can't possibly have escaped your notice that there are Veela in the room. George has certainly taken up the challenge of gaining their attention most admirably," she said, her tone dry and acerbic.

Fred began to fidget in his seat, and she had the sinking feeling that she had missed something. Looking around the room, she saw Ron still dancing with Luna, his arm wrapped around her waist and Luna appearing quite comfortable with the situation. A glance in George's direction confirmed that he was shooting looks at his twin in between cracking jokes with no less than three Veela cousins.

Glancing back at Fred, she finally summed up his intentions.

"Don't worry about it Hermione," he said awkwardly, "It was a stupid thought after all. You're my little brother's mate. Just forget about it." He stood up to walk away and she grabbed his arm, pulling him back towards her.

If he was willing to dance with her to take her mind off Ron, she would not embarrass him by turning him down. Hesitantly, she pasted on a small smile and looked him in the eyes.

"Perhaps I could go for another drink. Would that be all right to start with?"

Fred nodded and made his way to the bar, giving George a wink on his way past that Hermione failed to notice.

OoXoO

'The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.'

Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice reverberated through the assembled guests, and as his graceful lynx Patronus evaporated into the air, chaos broke out. Harry found Hermione first, grabbing her and pulling her out of her stunned trance. She reacted quickly and began searching among the crowd for Ron. She spotted a shock of red hair, its owner's face obscured by a group of older witches. Pushing through the group, she reached forward blindly and grasped his hand tightly within her own. He squeezed back forcibly and turned to face her. She turned on the spot and Apparated the three of them away just as she caught the look on his face.

It wasn't Ron.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks to thefirstservant for helping me to revise this chapter and thank you for reading, reviews are very welcome x


	2. Where we find ourselves

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and it's characters belong to J.K Rowling.

Warnings: This is currently rated T for dashes of colourful language here and there. As the story progresses these warnings may be subject to change.

Beta'd by thefirstservant.

* * *

The trio appeared in the middle of Tottenham Court Road, breathless, dizzy, and scared. It had been the first place Hermione had thought of, but it would afford them no safety until they got out of sight and out of their wedding garb.

Still hand-in-hand with her two companions, Hermione pulled them into a dimly lit side street and began to rummage through the small beaded bag she had slung over her shoulder.

Harry caught his breath and took in their location. He looked up at the freckled red head they had pulled along for the ride and swore quietly.

"Can't say I'm too pleased either mate," said Fred.

"Yes, well, not my crowning moment, but can we please just leave it for a minute? We have to get changed and get out of here, we're not safe on the streets like this." said Hermione quickly, pulling out clothes for each of the boys and handing them over before pulling out her own gear.

Fred raised his eyebrows at the bag in Hermione's hands, "Got enough in that bag, Hermione?"

"Undetectable extension charm," she responded robotically, throwing a cardigan over her dress and swapping her heels for flat shoes. Fred eyed her with a bemused look on his face and began pulling off his jacket in favour of one of Mrs Weasley's famous knitted jumpers.

"Good thing Mum's knitting is practically one size fits all."

"Hardly the most important topic of conversation right now," said Harry sarcastically, "How the heck did you mistake Fred for Ron, Hermione? They don't even look alike!" he said, pulling on a pair of Muggle jeans underneath his robe before tugging the robe over his head and throwing on a dark knitted jersey. "You've only known Ron for, oh, I don't know, six years after all!"

"Keep it down would you!" Hermione hissed, "It's not like I did it on purpose! Do you think I wanted to leave Ron behind? Merlin, you'd think I didn't have enough to worry about!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said heatedly, "Are you saying I've done nothing to prepare for this?"

"No, Harry-"

"All right, you two, no need to fight over me," joked Fred, "It's no big deal, I'll just Apparate back to The Burrow when things settle down a bit."

Hermione and Harry directed their gaze toward their unwelcome guest, and Fred felt distinctly uncomfortable, not for the first time that evening.

"You can't," said Harry, his voice flat, "They'll have set up surveillance by now. The Death Eaters will know you left with me and if they get their hands on you, they'll do everything they can to find out where I am."

"How could they know I'm with you? You were disguised throughout the entire wedding, the Order made sure no one knew you were there," Fred argued.

"I'm not willing to take a chance with that, are you?" Said Harry darkly, "If you want to risk being tortured by the sadistic henchmen of a batshit crazy madman, be my guest."

"It can't be as bad as all that mate."

"It is," sighed Hermione, throwing a weary look at her best friend, "We were planning to leave in a few days as it was, I just packed in advance. We knew it was only a matter of time before the Ministry was overthrown and we would have to run."

"There's something we have to do, and we can't go back until it's done," said Harry firmly, "Unfortunately for you, you're stuck with us."

Harry pulled on a pair of battered Muggle trainers and his inconspicuous look was made complete. Hermione looked over him with approval and passed him the invisibility cloak, which he begrudgingly threw over his shoulders.

"You really have thought of everything," said Fred, as Harry disappeared from view.

"Not exactly," Hermione replied, "I have no idea where to go next, and I have no idea what to do for you, and I have no idea what's happening to Ron or the rest of your family or-" her voice sounded strangled, and Harry moved forward to put his hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right, Hermione, we'll work it out. Let's just figure out the next step first," he said, his voice quiet in her ear.

"We could go to the shop?" Fred suggested.

"No," said Harry, "If they know you're with us they'll be expecting that. We can't go anywhere that's connected with us in any way."

"We need to get off the streets either way," said Fred.

"You're right," said Hermione, grabbing Harry's hand from it's resting place on her shoulder and gripping it tightly when she caught hold of it. She turned and walked briskly down the dingy alleyway, leaving Fred to catch up behind them.

"Why don't we just Apparate?" he asked, jogging up beside her.

"We're out in the open," she said, "If anyone observes us disappearing into thin air they'll be certain to report it to the police. The Ministry has it's toes in every jurisdiction of muggle authority, and right now the Ministry is Voldemort. They would be on us-"

"Even if they did find out we'd Apparated, they wouldn't be able to follow us," Fred reasoned.

Harry stopped and turned towards Fred, "Don't underestimate what they can do-"

The air around the trio vibrated as a loud 'crack' rang out mere meters from where they were standing. Harry pushed Hermione aside and whipped out his wand, silently casting a quick "Stupefy" towards the closest death eater who had appeared in the tight alleyway. The death eater dropped wordlessly to the pavement and was carelessly trodden on by his two colleagues in their eagerness to capture their would-be victims.

Across from Harry, Fred and Hermione had processed the sudden chaos and had begun firing spells towards the remaining death eaters rapidly and with reckless abandon. The alleyway lit up with the volley of spells, illuminating the bone masks of Voldemort's loyal henchmen.

Harry, hidden from sight, cast a muttered "Protego" to shield his two companions from a particularly nasty hex before replying with one of his own. He felt sweat dripping down his forehead and stinging his eyes, and his heart was in his mouth making his breath come short and fast. The invisibility cloak afforded him some safety. They didn't know where his spells were coming from, however the death eaters became more vicious in their attack on Fred and Hermione in response.

Fred, hitting one of the remaining death eaters with a well-aimed Confundus charm, whipped around at the shrill scream that rang out beside him. Fumbling slightly, he withdrew a slim packet from his pocket, and ripping it open, he scattered the contents around himself and the injured girl at his side. Thick, impenetrable darkness engulfed his vision and he grabbed Hermione's hand and whispered, "Run."

With the alleyway shrouded in the cloying blackness, Harry stumbled backwards following the sounds of his retreating friends, still sending offensive spells in the direction of their attackers. Light hit his retinas again as he made his way out of the sphere of blackness. He saw Fred and Hermione dart behind a large metal dumpster and dived in behind them.

"H-How did they find us?" Hermione gasped.

"That doesn't matter right now, the question is how do we stop them following us," muttered Harry.

Fred was visibly shaking, his breath coming short and fast as he struggled to collect himself, and his freckles stark on his paled face. Hermione didn't look to be in a much better state, but she took a deep breath and looked up at the sound of Harry's voice.

"Wait for them to come out and Obliviate them?" she suggested.

"Right." As Harry watched from his position, the blackness dissipated slowly and the alleyway cleared to the sight of three death eaters lying haphazardly on the filthy cobbled ground.

"Well, that solves one problem," said Fred, pulling himself up from behind the dumpster and frowning at the still bodies.

"And creates a whole lot more," said Harry, "We have to Obliviate them and get rid of the evidence."

"I-I can take care of the memory charms, but what should we do with them? We can't just dump them somewhere. It would cause more problems than it would solve," Hermione stuttered.

"Leave that to me," said Fred. Harry could almost see the plan ticking over behind Fred's eyes as a smile began to tug at the other boy's mouth.

"What do you have in mind?" Hermione asked, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"If I'm not mistaken, my dear Hermione, behind us is the back entrance to a most wonderful establishment that I like to call a pub, and I believe the locks on this door will respond quite nicely to a little wand waving. Perhaps these three drank too much this evening? Any questions asked will be their problem after that."

"All right, sounds like a plan," said Harry, "Best Obliviate them now Hermione, while they're still out cold."

The three crept up to the stunned death eaters and taking hold of their bone masks, unveiled their would-be captors.

"Dolohov," said Harry, looking down at the blond haired man at his feet.

"I've got Rowle," said Fred, frowning in disgust at the large man he had unmasked, "Who have you got Hermione?"

"What does it matter?" spluttered Hermione. Fred stared up at her in response. "Oh, all right then," she sighed, peering down at the darkly dressed man, "I think it's Avery."

"You think?" asked Harry.

"Well, he's not in the best condition," she said, "He's got a nasty case of Anteoculatia."

"Huh," said Harry.

"Horn-growing hex, Harry. Nice shot, Fred," she said appraisingly, "But I do think we'll have to fix that before we leave."

Fred's ears gained the slightly tinge of pink, but his grin didn't diminish in the least. "Sounds reasonable," he teased.

"Let's get on with these memory adjustments, Hermione, I want to get out of here as soon as possible," said Harry.

Hermione nodded in response and drew her wand over Avery's head muttering "Obliviate," before moving on to the next death eater.

When she had Obliviated the three, Fred unlocked the door to the pub with a quick "Alohomora," and cast the countercurse on Avery's horns, which slowly shrank back into the side of his head before disappearing entirely.

"Looked better with the horns if you ask me," Fred smirked, to which Harry laughed dryly, "Think you could take that cloak off now, mate? Bit disconcerting to be talking to thin air."

"But-" Hermione began to argue.

"Sure," said Harry, taking off the cloak and stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans, "No point in it now, Hermione, they found us anyway."

She nodded glumly and helped the boys to manoeuvre the three bodies in through the doorway of the pub, and onto three well-worn seats around a dark little table. They had just finished arranging the bodies with half empty glasses of beer and spirits surrounding them, when the lights to the bar blazed on around them.

Grabbing Harry and Hermione, Fred turned on the spot and whisked them away.

OoXoO

They arrived on the steps of 12 Grimmauld place under the shroud of the Fidelius charm and the dim light of a nearby lamppost. Fred stepped up and gripped the doorknob tightly, casting unlocking charms as he did so. The door creaked open and he widened it with his foot, before staring into the darkened hallway cautiously.

"What are we doing here?" Harry hissed, "It isn't safe here anymore."

"It was the first place I thought of, Harry. Under the circumstances, I wanted to be somewhere warm and dry. Besides, if anyone from the order got away then we can contact them from here." Fred answered simply.

"Snape knows the secret of headquarters, Fred. With Dumbledore dead, he can tell anyone he likes. The death eaters could be here any second," Harry spat.

"Hardly," said Fred, "That greasy git wouldn't be stupid enough to send You-Know-Who to an empty dump like this. He'd want to be absolutely certain that there would be something to gain from it. Attacking the order directly would gain them more losses than advantages."

"Like that would matter to him, he would throw every single follower he has under the Hogwarts' express if he thought he would get me out of the bargain!" Harry shouted.

"Well then, we just won't advertise that we're here," Hermione said, wincing and clutching her arm to her chest tightly, "Not that we've done a great job of that so far," she admonished, as the sound of screaming started up from the portrait of Mrs Black, the heavy drapes whipping back to reveal the unpleasant woman.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, shut up!" Harry shouted, entering the hallway and causing the old gas lamps to flicker into life, illuminating the decrepit ancient house in all its eerie glory. Before he could make it to the shrieking portrait, he felt a presence surround him and a voice whispered close to his ear.

"Severus Snape..." came the disembodied voice of Alastor Moody.

"I'm not Snape," Harry grumbled, feeling a cold air whip over him and an unpleasant curling and unfurling of his tongue follow after.

"Careful, Harry, the Order placed jinxes on this place to keep Snape out, " warned Fred, flexing his jaw and poking his tongue out at the still gibbering portrait of Mrs Black.

"Vile scum, tainting the Most Ancient House of Black, not fit to step foot in the pure-"

"Be quiet, you insane old biddy," Harry groaned, stepping up and silencing the portrait with a wave of his wand and a stream of red sparks. As he did so, a dusty figure rose from the carpet and rustled towards the three as they stood immobilised at the scene before them.

The wasted and empty socketed form of Albus Dumbledore raised an accusatory arm towards them, and Hermione screamed in terror, "We didn't kill you, Professor!"

At her voice, the form crumpled back into the unformed dust from whre it came, drifting in the staid and stagnant air of the hallway. Hermione gasped and doubled over, grasping at her chest and breathing shallowly.

"You're hurt," Harry said, softening his tone, "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I-it's nothing, Harry. We couldn't stop back there." she panted.

Harry frowned, "It's not nothing, Hermione. Look at you."

"It's fine, really, Harry, I'll just get some Dittany out of my bag. It'll be a quick fix."

"Just show me, Hermione, please," he sighed, shoulders slumping as the fight seeped out of him.

Hermione sent a glance toward Fred and the elder boy stepped backwards, acutely aware of his intrusion to the tight knit pair.

"Maybe you two should go and take a look in the sitting room. I'll go and hunt down that good-for-nothing house elf," Fred said quietly.

Hermione frowned at his description of Kreacher, but nodded and slowly made her way into the front room with Harry at her side, leaving Fred alone to his thoughts.


	3. The ones we leave behind

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and it's characters belong to J.K Rowling.

Warnings: This is currently rated T for dashes of colourful language here and there. As the story progresses these warnings may be subject to change.

* * *

Ron Weasley looked around at the rapidly vacating guests and felt his stomach plummet as he saw Harry and Hermione disapparate on the arm of a red head who was most definitely not him. _Bugger. _His thoughts were rapidly distracted however, as he found himself in the middle of a wand fight.

He ducked as a stray spell whizzed over his head, feeling the effects as they brushed past his scalp, tingling down his spine. Pushing forcefully past the guests in front of him, he aimed his wand and shot an _Expelliarmus_ at the nearest Death Eater. Hearing a shout, he turned his head rapidly as another red head crashed into him and tugged him in the opposite direction, pushing him roughly underneath one of the laden tables.

As the tablecloth hung down and hid them from view, his brother hissed, "Where's Fred?"

Ron groaned, rubbing his head where he'd banged it against the table edge, "So that's who it was."

"What are you on about?" said George indignantly, "We don't have time for this, I need to find Fred and get out of here."

"Fred's gone," Ron muttered darkly, "He went with Harry and Hermione."

"Wha-why?," said George, looking puzzled, "No wait, never mind, so long as he's safe."

"Never mind?!" Ron spluttered loudly, "Don't you get it? They've gone!"

"Keep your voice down-"

The table above them began to hover slightly, glasses clinking together and smashing, before being thrown forcefully away from them and landing in a ruined heap outside the marquee, exposing the two boys to the barrage of the fight once more.

"Well, well. What have we here, hmm? More traitor scum to add to the pile," drawled the Death Eater, stepping up to them where they were still sitting cramped on the ground. They looked up and glared at the cloaked and masked man, and Ron felt his blood boil.

"You're the one with the ugly skull on your face," said Ron firmly, earning an elbow in the gut from George and a sneer from the death eater in front of him.

"Maybe you'd like to put your wand where your mouth is?"

Ron sneered back at the Death Eater in response.

"No? Well then, tell me where Harry Potter is and the two of you can go free," said the man, opening his arms widely in a gesture of casual peace, oblivious or uncaring to the fight raging behind him.

"Ha! That's a likely story," Ron said snidely, "More like we tell you, and you kill us before going back to your filthy master, begging for praise."

"You'd be wise not to insult the Dark Lord, mudblood loving scum, you forget the position you're in," the man spat, swinging his wand towards Ron and George, and face darkening with anger, "Now tell me where he is."

"He was never here," George said quickly, "We don't know where he is, haven't seen him since the start of summer when he went back to his Aunt's house."

The man let his wand wrist relax slightly, a small smile spreading across the exposed skin where his mask ended in unnerving contrast, pointing out the unremarkable being beneath the horror.

"I know you're lying," he said slowly, as if he were tasting the words as they left his mouth, "But don't worry, I'll get it out of you, that's my favourite part-"

The man paused and frowned, looking down at the ugly black mark that burned his left forearm. He took one more look at his two hostages, before grinning widely and disapparating into the night. The last spells lingering in the air fizzled away as the targets fled the scene without so much as a blink, their opponents disapparating quickly in pursuit, leaving behind a thick and clogging silence in their wake.

"Fuck, Ron!" George exclaimed, breaking the silence in true Weasley fashion, "You could have gotten us killed you twit!"

"If he was going to kill us, he'd do it whether we were nice to him or not!" Ron snapped, his face turning red as he stood up to walk away from George.

"Calm down, mate-"

Ron turned back to face the solitary twin, and George took a step backwards at the glint in his youngest brother's eye. "I won't calm down! Harry and Hermione have gone, George, they aren't coming back. Do you get it now? Fred won't be coming back either, not now. Who cares if some Death Eater threatens us?"

"Shouting at me won't fix anything, Ron," George said calmly, "What do you mean Fred won't be coming ba-"

"George! Ron! There you are! Where are the others? Are they safe?" Mrs Weasley bustled up towards them, her cheeks red and her chest heaving with every breath. The arm of her dress was ripped, and a rather large gash peeked through the torn material.

"Mum, are you alright?" George asked quickly.

"Oh, yes yes, I'm fine, George. Just a little cut. Where's Fred?"

"He's with Harry and Hermione. They're gone mum," said Ron gritting his teeth.

"Gone? What do you mean gone?" She tensed, her eyes widening and a note of panic entering her voice, "Are they safe?"

"Who knows. The Death Eaters didn't get them if that's what you want to know, but they won't be coming back," he answered shortly.

"All right, well we'll have to leave explanations until later, right now we need to get into the house, the Order will be regrouping there," she breathed a small sigh, but her mouth set into a grim line, determination and desperation warring for dominance on her face, "The Death Eaters could come back at any time, we have to get somewhere more defensible."

OoXoO

The atmosphere in the Burrow could be cut with a knife. The rest of the Weasley family were huddled around the rickety kitchen table, unnaturally quiet and solemn. They all looked up as the three walked through the threshold, Arthur standing and folding Molly into a tight embrace. Ron could see her shoulders relax in his father's arms, and he was thankful that so many of his family were still here - there was comfort in that, at least.

"Has anyone else from the Order made it back yet?" Molly asked quietly, taking a step back to look up at her husband.

"Remus just made it back with Tonks. They're fine," Arthur said hurriedly, "They're in the lounge, I think Tonks is lying down for a bit. None of the others are back yet."

Molly nodded in response and moved to take a seat at the table next to Arthur's, George and Ron following her example and squeezing into chairs between their siblings.

"So they've gone then? Harry and Hermione. Why is Fred with them?" Molly asked calmly, her face smooth, but for the small crease between her brow that she only wore when worried or angry. Ron wasn't sure which she was feeling this time. It could be both.

"Beats me, they must prefer him," he muttered glumly, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself at being left behind.

"Get a grip, Ron. It was a mistake mum, obviously," said George, shaking his head at his younger brother's sour attitude. Molly frowned, but seemed to accept the explanation as the only one she was likely to get.

"Easy for you to say, you haven't been left behind," Ron retorted.

"Shall I point out that there's usually a slightly less handsome version of yours truly hanging around?" George smirked. Ginny laughed nervously beside him, but the joke felt empty, like the seat on the other side of George.

"Sorry mate, wasn't thinking," Ron mumbled.

"Bad habit that. Might want to start, what with N.E. this year," George grinned.

Ron groaned at the mention of exams, he hadn't planned on taking another one if he could help it. He wished Hermione had been left behind instead, at least she would be happy to take her N.E. .

The kitchen door swung open, it's hinges creaking and mingling with Ron's enthusiastic complaint. Arthur was out of his seat and at the door before Ron had even noticed the figure standing in the frame.

"Declare yourself," Arthur demanded, his wand out and pointed at the figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I am Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror and secretary to the muggle Prime Minister, known as Royal to my friends. I enjoy muggle Operas, and Ballet," He intoned drily. Arthur lowered his wand and gestured at him to take a seat at the table.

"They've put the house under surveillance, Arthur. I managed to get through before the charms were fully in place, but it's going to be a lot harder from now on."

"That's going to cause some problems. We'll need to get the message out to the others to stay away."

"Patronus?" Molly asked. Arthur nodded in agreement, and the table once more fell into an awkward silence.

"Why did no one password us?" George asked to nobody in particular, "We could've been anybody."

"I should think I know my own family," Arthur replied quietly, a small smile at his lips. The twins could never leave a silence untouched.

"You lot can barely tell the difference between me and Fred, that's not very comforting, Dad."

"Honestly, George, what do you think the clock is for? It's not just to catch you and Fred getting up to no good," said Molly exasperatedly, and turned back toward Arthur, "We need to set up more security wards on the house, and Bill's cottage too. Perhaps, Charlie-"

"Yes, yes we can discuss it as soon as we hear what's happening," Arthur said firmly, "Ginny, Ron, George, you should go up to bed."

"I'm of age, I want to stay and help," George said, his voice tight but steady.

Arthur looked at his third youngest, and after a moment, nodded his approval.

"I'm of age too-"

"You're still at school, Ron. You and Ginny are not going to be involved for as long as we can help it. We've discussed this before," Molly said sharply, before softening her voice and brushing a hand through her hair, "I'm sorry, but that's final. Go and get some sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow."

Ron and Ginny shared a look of disgruntlement, but both stood up and made their way out of the kitchen and into the hallway, passing by the lounge where Lupin and Tonks were sitting quietly, and up into the empty levels of the house, Ginny breaking the silence to laugh when they heard George start up the argument again, that keeping an eye on the twins was _exactly_ what the clock was for.

OoXoO

The sun was beating down, casting a swathe of ruthless heat upon the Burrow, and turning the grass a sickly yellow tinge. Despite it being uncommonly hot for a Devon summer, the generally well-received climate met with resolute dissatisfaction from three members of the Weasley clan. Whereas previous summers would have called for sunbathing or picnics in the garden, sweaty and riotous Quidditch matches, and water fights in the stream running through the property, this summer had taken on a rather dull cast, the sun unable to burn through the undercurrents of tension in the Weasley household.

Ron, in particular, found himself gloomy at best and positively churlish at worst. Unable to endure the constant chatter of his remaining siblings or the sympathetic looks garnered from his mother and various order members, he had taken to spending as much time as possible holed up in his room, avoiding both his responsibilities and the unsolicited memories of summers past. When Molly Weasley invaded the solitude of his room on a cleaning mission however, he made a break for freedom, escaping to the safety of the Orchard.

He made his way down to the bottom of the sprawling grove to where the ancient Horse Chestnut tree stood proud, solitary from the surrounding fruit copse. The tree housed the old swing, and the haphazard fort Fred and George had built before leaving for Hogwarts, and had spent their days in every summer since. They had claimed the fort a 'ginger free zone' and defended their rule on the basis of being 'more auburn actually', before proceeding to pelt their siblings mercilessly with conkers at every opportunity.

The tree was empty now, devoid of the lively battles and nefarious Weasley twin escapades. At the thought, Ron kicked hard at the trunk of the offending tree, gaining a stubbed toe for his efforts. Groaning and clutching his foot, he hopped to the swing and plonked himself down on its worn seat.

"I didn't think anyone would be out here," a voice spoke from the boughs above him. Ginny peered at him from the edge of the wooden platform, her freckled wrists dangling over the side as she positioned herself on her belly.

"I came here to be alone," he huffed, kicking off from the ground and putting distance between his feet and the dirt beneath him.

"Well, don't mind me then," she said airily, "I'm here for the same reason." She rolled onto her back, squinting up at the dense foliage and the shafts of light trickling through the leaves.

Ron sighed, "I suppose we're both here now. Might as well, you know, chat or something." He shrugged at his own suggestion, but from her vantage point, Ginny didn't catch the gesture. She remained quiet for a time, and Ron began to think she hadn't heard him either.

"Make yourself useful and cast a cooling charm, would you?" She called down finally.

"Oh, er right, yeah," he mumbled, reaching in his jeans pocket for his wand to cast a _Frigore_ charm. The air around the tree cooled considerably and Ginny let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, I can barely think in this heat."

"You could have cast it yourself," he frowned at her prostrate figure lounging above him. She looked down at him, smiling wickedly.

"Ah, but you're of age now. You shouldn't be encouraging me. Rules and all that."

He grinned back, "Since when have you needed encouragement to break rules Gin?"

"I could say the same to you brother dearest," she sang, "All those years of sneaking around with Harry and Hermione, you've broken plenty yourself."

Ron's grin transformed to a scowl, and he looked down at his feet, kicking in the dust beneath the swing, "Yeah well, I won't be doing much of anything with them this year, will I?"

She rolled back onto her stomach, her chin resting on her hands as she took in his slumped and dejected form. "You're not the only one left behind, you know."

"I-"

"No, I mean, I understand how you must feel. Don't...don't think you're alone. I know you're used to doing everything together, but then, so are Fred and George, and look at how George is coping. So, you aren't alone in being left behind."

If it had come from anyone else it would have sounded like sympathy, empty words made to pacify him, nullify his feelings. From Ginny it was different. Ginny didn't try to sweeten her words or dull the pain. It wasn't in her nature to placate people.

"How do you cope, Ginny?" He asked quietly, "How do you cope when Harry leaves you behind and takes us with him?"

She shrugged and chewed her lip for some moments, "It's not like it is with you. We're not that close. There's always too much going on for us to really get to know each other. It's the feeling that I'm too young. That I'll get in the way. That's what's hard for me."

For all her youth and insecurities, he had always believed Ginny to be more confident than himself. More capable. She would be sixteen in a few days, only a year younger than Harry. Harry, who at sixteen had once again fought for his life against Death Eaters. Harry, who had proven, time and time again, that age was not the sum of a person.

"You wouldn't get in the way, Gin. It's not that you're too young, no one is too young when it comes to life or death. It's because he cares about you. He doesn't want you to have to fight. He would spare any of us that, I think, if he could."

She was quiet for a moment, and Ron thought that perhaps she was readying herself for a rant, but then he heard her voice trail down to him softly, so discordant from her usual tenacious lilt that he almost missed it entirely.

"I've come down here a lot this summer. Before everything happened, I mean. I thought a lot about what I would do if he left, and I figured it was best to just accept it, you know? I couldn't stop him going, and I wouldn't want him to feel guilty about leaving either. Accepting it just makes it easier."

Ron nodded slowly, accepting the truth in her words. He looked up and caught her eyes, and she smiled back down at him.

"I just hope that he's safe," she said simply.

"Hermione will look after him. Fred too, I suppose. Although, Hermione might go mental with those two together. I was always the calm, rational one, you know," he laughed quietly, imagining Hermione jinxing Harry and Fred, and feeling quite relieved that he wouldn't be on the receiving end of her wand for the foreseeable future.

"Ha! You, calm and rational," she laughed, "You're probably right though, Hermione will have it all planned."

"When did you get so wise, huh?"

"When you were off on adventures without me," Ginny grinned, and threw a conker at his head. Her aim was truer than his dodge. "So, just you and me this year, Ron."

He felt the returning smile tugging at his lips, "Yeah, Gin, just you and me."

* * *

**A/N: **Hello again readers, thanks to those who have followed or favourited this story. Let me know how you think it's going. Is there anything you like/don't like? Anything you want to see more of etc. I personally really enjoyed writing the Ginny & Ron scene. Constructive crit please, flames aren't useful. Thanks again for any R&R.


	4. One half of a whole

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and it's characters belong to J.K Rowling.

Warnings: This is currently rated T for dashes of colourful language here and there. As the story progresses these warnings may be subject to change.

* * *

Gimmauld Place could hardly have been called pleasant to begin with, but at least the last time he had stayed, there were people filling up all the dark spaces, and noise leaking through the eerie silences of the sprawling London mansion. Now, with the rooms closed off once more, and the dust settling heavily again on white sheets that were thrown haphazardly over surfaces, Fred couldn't help but think that it might be his least favourite place in the world. How Sirius has grown up in this pit of despair, Fred would never know, but he had revised his thoughts on Sirius' hatred for the property within hours of arriving with Harry and Hermione.

The two had gone to heal Hermione's wound in the front sitting room, as he had suggested, and he had been left to wander the Black house in search of the utterly useless Kreacher, who was house elf in nothing but name, it would seem. He eventually found the pitiful elf in the upper reaches of the house, scrounging in the wardrobe of his mistress, and it had nearly knocked Fred over as it scurried past him to get away from such a '_disgusting blood traitor'. _He would have laughed at the sight of the dishevelled old creature as it ran past with barely a stitch on it, only there was no one there to share the joke with. He supposed Hermione wouldn't have laughed much at a house elf to begin with, whether it had taken to dressing up in it's former mistress' clothes or not.

In the previous summer, when the Weasley family had stayed with Sirius and Lupin, and the Order had come and gone hour by hour, Fred and George had taken to stalking the elf as it made it's way around the decrepit house. It had made for both entertainment and the honing of their sneaking skills, as the elf was an accomplished sneak itself when it wasn't muttering foul oaths beneath it's breath and giving the game away.

They had spied him once trying to polish a picture frame with the holiest sock Fred had ever seen, rivalling even a pair of Ron's that had been blasted with a backfiring _repairo_ charm and practically reduced to the original wool thread. They had decided then that Kreacher was either utterly barmy, or quite possibly, a genius in disguise. He had, after all, gotten everyone in the house to do all the chores, by simply making Molly too exasperated to bother with him.

George had pointed out that if all they had to do to get out of chores was wear a filthy pillowcase and walk around swearing continuously, well, they were already halfway there.

Fred chuckled at the memory, but quietened when there was no answering laughter at his side.

Pushing away the jarring image of George beside him, he followed Kreacher's dusty footprints down the many staircases, and back into the bowels of the house.

OoXoO

Harry had finished applying the dittany to Hermione's wound and bandaging the area with a _Ferula_ spell in case the delicate new skin reopened, by the time Fred finally entered the dim sitting room. He was glad that Fred hadn't been present during the process, as Hermione had had to strip off the dress she was wearing in order to heal the cut, and Harry could still feel the heat staining his cheeks red. He may have thought of her like a sister, but a partially naked female body was still precisely that, and it unfortunately came to the forefront of his mind that she wasn't actually his sister after all. He would never have lived it down if Fred had borne witness to that particular bout of awkwardness.

Hermione had just dressed herself in a set of warm pyjamas and _Accio'd_ the three of them pillows and sleeping bags from her enchanted bag, deciding that they should camp together in the lounge rather than brave the darkened upstairs bedrooms. Fred closed the door behind him and came to join them on one of the lumpy old couches surrounding the cold fireplace.

"A message came while you were gone - a weasel," Harry said, looking up from his knuckles, where his eyes had been firmly rooted while Hermione had dressed.

"Dad's Patronus," said Fred, "What did it say?" His mouth set into a grim line, as if readying himself for unwanted news.

"He said they're all right, but they're being watched. We can't contact anyone."

Fred let out a sigh and his posture relaxed for the first time since they had left the Burrow.

"Did you find Kreacher?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, ran off before I could say anything to him, but he knows he has company at least," Fred smirked and looked to be suppressing a laugh. Harry raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question Fred's sometimes dubious sense of humour. Whatever it was, Harry thought he'd rather not know.

"All right then. I'll talk to him tomorrow, I doubt he'll be interested in chatting tonight or in the morning, but right now I can't be bothered with him."

Harry sighed and leant back into the couch, closing his leaden eyes and wishing fervently that he would be somewhere else when he opened them. Anywhere else. His scar had been throbbing since they had arrived at Grimmauld Place and he suspected that it would only get worse as long as he was awake. Voldemort was obviously displeased with his followers yet again.

"I'm sure Kreacher's been very lonely here by himself, Harry. He'll probably quite like to have company again," Hermione said, getting up from the couch and casting _Incendio _in the hearth. The small pile of wood stacked in the grate took light and began to burn happily, the warming glow barely licking the edges of the small circle the three sleeping bags had made in front of it. Laying down in her sleeping bag, Hermione rolled onto her side and looked back at Harry, grimacing as she shifted her weight.

"I doubt that," Harry grimaced, "Have you forgotten how much Kreacher hates everyone he has contact with? I know you have your elf crusade, Hermione, but I'm fairly sure Kreacher would rather stick his head on the wall with the other stuffed elves, than talk to any of us."

"S.P.E.W is not a crusade, Harry. Besides, I think you're being far too harsh on Kreacher. He hated Sirius, so you've decided to hate him in return." She frowned, her voice beginning to take on the usual heightened tones she gained when her favourite subject was in discussion.

"Kreacher's mental, Hermione. Under all that blood purity nonsense and brainwashing, he's a sneaky, hoarding, hateful little sprite. Not many redeeming parts to him, I'd say. Although, if you're in need of anyone to model your wardrobe for you, I'd put him at the top of your list," Fred laughed.

Harry looked at him with a puzzled sort of smile, but Hermione's eyes darkened and she shot back, "You should be careful how you speak of others, Fred Weasley. Kreacher is far from mental, and we would be wise to show him kindness and respect. I think you'll find that you get a lot more from people by being nice, than by making them into jokes." With that she turned her back on the boys and made a show of going to sleep.

Harry and Fred shared a look, before Harry shrugged and got up to get into his sleeping bag.

"Best get some sleep, yeah? We'll all be better in the morning," Harry advised, before flicking his wand toward the oil lamps and leaving the fire as the only source of light in the room.

Fred nodded and crawled into his makeshift bed, but remained awake until the last of the embers turned to ash in the fireplace, and the light went out completely.

OoXoO

Morning came around all too quickly, and Fred woke alone on the floor of the sitting room, Harry and Hermione's sleeping bags neatly rolled and stacked next to one of the embroidered armchairs. There was no other trace to show that anyone had been there at all.

Hearing a muffled clanking coming from the kitchen, Fred pushed himself up onto his elbows and clambered out of the snug sleeping bag. He couldn't decide whether he should feel thankful that Harry and Hermione had left him to sleep, or resentful for being left on his own. He went with the easier option of feeling grimy instead, sleeping in clothes was not his favourite pastime. Sleeping in clothes that he'd had a duel in was even less so. Groaning, he kicked the sleeping bag until it rolled up in an approximation of Hermione's tidier efforts, and threw it on top of the two other bags, before making his way down into the basement kitchen.

Hermione was rummaging in the pantry when he entered the room, while Harry sat at the long table, his head resting on crossed arms and watching Hermione with an indifferent glaze pasted on his face, as she pulled items from the shelves and muttered to herself. Fred took a seat next to Harry and leaned back in the chair as Harry turned his head toward him.

"Good sleep?"

"Fine," Fred smiled, feeling the uncomfortable pull of the false gesture, but not bothering to put any real effort into making it convincing, "Is she all right this morning?" He asked, nodding his head towards Hermione slightly.

Harry's eyebrow quirked and he opened his mouth to speak, but was beaten by Hermione loudly complaining from inside the pantry.

"There is nothing to eat in this place, honestly, you'd think that Wizards would be better with food preservation. It's not like they don't have magic after all."

Harry smiled at Fred as if to say 'I think that answers your question,' before looking back at Hermione. "Never heard of fridges, I suppose," he commiserated.

"Hmm, there are some dusty cans of peaches and a half box of cereal that's most likely stale. Who knows where it came from. No milk of course, we'll have to make do with the juice from the peaches." She sighed and brought the items over to the table before collecting bowls and spoons, and sitting down opposite the boys.

"It'll be fine, Hermione, stop worrying," said Harry, sitting up and pulling a bowl over towards him, when the spell Hermione was using to open the can resulted in juice splattering him in the face.

"Sorry, Harry!" She gasped, a smile tugging at her mouth. Fred couldn't help but laugh as Harry swiped at his face and licked his fingers.

"I'd prefer my breakfast in my stomach, thanks Hermione," Harry grinned. Hermione had the grace to look bashful and put her head down, but Fred could see a small smile settle on her face as she rationed out the meagre breakfast for each of them.

When the three had finished eating, which didn't take long as there wasn't a lot to begin with, Hermione regained her determined expression. "We're going to need to sort out this food issue if we're staying here, Harry. And we'd best clean some bedrooms too. No point in sleeping on the floor if we're going to be here a while."

"How did the Order get food when we were last here?" Harry asked, frowning as if he'd never thought about it before. _Probably hasn't_, Fred surmised.

"Just get Kreacher to sort out food," said Fred, "It's what he's here for, supposedly. He'll have a token to take what he needs from the house account. Or he should anyway. He probably sleeps with it like a trophy, like some creepy Black heirloom," he laughed. Harry grinned at him, but Hermione scowled and her hands clenched into small fists.

"Fred Weasley, stop being so heartless! Kreacher doesn't deserve to be mocked, it's not his fault that he's been left here on his own. I don't doubt that he tries to hold on to his memories in any way that he can," Hermione snapped, staring at Fred from across the table as Harry sat looking from one to the other, his grin fading fast and unsure if he should step in or leave them to sort their own issues.

Fred stilled and returned the stare for a moment, before standing and shaking his head, "Merlin, Hermione, this S.P.E.W nonsense of yours is just getting ridiculous. I didn't mean anything by it. Thanks for breakfast, I'm going to see if there's any hot water for a shower."

He left the room without a backwards glance.

OoXoO

"What on earth has gotten into him?" Said Hermione, when she and Harry were once again alone in the kitchen.

"Are you asking that seriously, or are you just making an idle comment?"

"He's acting like an arse."

"You're not exactly winning any awards right now either," Harry reproved. Hermione shot him a glare.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," Harry sighed, "Just, that's twice now that you've had a go at him. Don't you think you're being a bit harsh, Hermione?"

"He's being needlessly cruel about Kreacher, Harry, someone needs to stick up for house-elf rights."

"I'm guilty of it too, and you haven't shouted at me. He's just trying to have a laugh, Hermione. The bloke probably hasn't spent more than a couple of hours apart from his twin in his whole life, and now he's stuck here with us. He can't even contact George to know if he's okay."

"We don't know what's going on with Ron either," she sniffed, her shoulders rounding slightly. Harry reached across the table and grasped Hermione's hand, giving her a small squeeze.

"Is that what's bothering you? That Ron isn't here?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded and pulled her hand from Harry's, using it to brush the evidence of hot tears from her face. "I'm not happy either, you know. I know I said at the beginning that I wanted to do this alone, but I always thought that I'd have the two of you beside me. I can't even imagine what Fred's going through without George though. Ron's like a brother to me, but George is much more than that to Fred. Must be like being split in half. Honestly, I think he's taking it pretty well, all things considered."

"I - you're right, Harry. I wasn't thinking about what Fred's going through. Have I been awful?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice. She looked up at Harry and he shook his head firmly.

"No, he'll understand. I wish there was something we could do for him though."

They were both quiet for some minutes, Harry got up and cleared away the breakfast plates, while Hermione sat with her head in her hands, her eyes shut.

"Maybe there is," she said after a time. Harry looked back at her from the sink where the dishes were drying themselves.

"Maybe there is, what?" He gave her a puzzled look to which she gave an exasperated sigh.

"It can't be that hard to figure out a way to keep them in contact."

"Oh. What do you have in mind?" Harry asked, curiosity peaked as he caught the look in Hermione's eye. That look of her mind ticking over with plans and ideas.

"Books, Harry, keep up."

"Books?" Harry repeated, but Hermione didn't answer, she simply smiled and left the room without another word.

"Books." Harry shook his head to himself, before following her out of the room. He supposed he should go talk to Kreacher and clean some bedrooms. He wouldn't be getting anything out of Hermione for the next few hours.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. Let me know how you think it's progressing, is there anything you'd like to see more of? Thanks again, any R&R are much appreciated.


	5. The hunt begins

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and it's characters belong to J.K Rowling.

Warnings: This is currently rated T for dashes of colourful language here and there. As the story progresses these warnings may be subject to change.

* * *

The shower hadn't done much to soothe his thoughts, but it had stripped him of last nights sweat and grime. He only wished he had a clean change of clothes to dress in. No such luck. A quick _Scourgify_ and _Novodore_ charm later, and last nights clothes were passably clean and odourless. It wasn't the first time he had had to resort to spells to clean his clothes, he and George had by necessity expanded their knowledge of household charms considerably since moving out on their own.

George.

_Damn_.

He had been trying his best to keep his thoughts away from his twin, but he was finding it far more difficult than he had presumed it would be. It didn't help that George was in practically every memory Fred could recall since day dot. There simply weren't many safe topics he could think about without his twin making an appearance, and every time George's face popped up it made the separation that much more real in Fred's mind.

It wasn't like George was dead, for Merlin's sake. Fred didn't know why he was being so miserable. Being stuck with two people who would much prefer that he were his youngest brother certainly wasn't helping with his spirits though. He looked up into the cracked old mirror hanging over the bathroom sink, and scowled at his distorted reflection. It wasn't like he wanted to be there either, he couldn't help it that he wasn't Ron. Not that he would ever want to be.

He sighed. No, being negative wouldn't help the situation. George would tell him he was being an arse if he was there. Pulling on a smile and his refreshed clothes, he took one last look in the mirror and pretended it was George looking back at him. _Right then, let's get on with it_.

OoXoO

He found Hermione sitting cross legged on the floor in the sitting room, books spread out around her in a semi circle and her nose firmly stuck to the pages of her chosen tome.

"Where's Harry?" Fred asked quietly.

"Upstairs I should think, I know he wanted to take a look in Sirius' room," she said, her eyes never leaving the page in front of her.

"Look, about before-"

"Don't apologise, Fred. I'm as much to blame. Why don't we just move on?" She said, looking up at him and smiling slightly, her eyes saying everything that her mouth wouldn't.

He nodded and returned the smile, sitting down opposite her and leaning back on his palms. "Sounds good. So, what are you reading?" She gave him an odd look over the top of the book and Fred sent back a bemused grin, "I do read, you know."

"I never said you didn't. You obviously got the ideas for your pranks and creations somewhere."

"Well, as much as I'd like to say it's all pure genius, I suppose I can really only claim half the credit," he teased, throwing her a devilish look; a Weasley twin signature.

She laughed and put the book down finally, "Less than that I'd say, you have to factor in that twin of yours somewhere."

"Ah yes, the infamous twin. I suppose so, yes. Although there are some things that George doesn't factor into, if you catch my drift," he waggled his eyebrows at her crudely and she nudged him with her leg, toppling him backwards. Laughing, he sat back up grinned at her, "All right, I deserved that, but I really am interested in what you're reading."

"You never used to be. Said I was a boring bookworm, if I recall," she deadpanned.

He shrugged, "You're not so bad."

"Hmm, well what a lovely vote of confidence. If you must know, I'm researching. I have an idea for a - well something," she stuttered, looking back down at her books, "And I wanted to know if it was possible. Well, I'm sure it is possible, but I want to know how to do it."

He had the distinct feeling that she was purposely not telling him something, but decided to overlook it, feeling gracious and all that, he thought.

"Right. Well, can I help at all?"

"With research?" She frowned, biting her lip slightly.

"Yes, with research. Like you said, I have to research to invent our products. George is better than me with that side of things, but I'm not completely useless."

"Well, okay then. I know the basic charm I need, I've used it before successfully, but what I want to do is adjust it so that it can only be used by two specific people."

"And you're not going to tell me what you're doing?" He surmised, raising an eyebrow at her.

"You'll find out eventually," she said, "So, what do you think?"

Choosing a book from the pile, he gave her a smile and crossed his legs, mimicking her position in the floor. "I think I'd better start reading," he said.

Every so often one of them found something they thought worth sharing, but they still hadn't pinpointed a spell that would work for the charm Hermione had in mind. Fred told her it would help if he knew what the original charm was, but she remained stoic in her refusal to tell him.

When a shout from above broke their reverie, they sat back, smiling slightly at having found each other's company surprisingly comfortable.

"Hey, I think I've found something! Get up here!"

OoXoO

Hermione and Fred finally made it to the topmost landing after stopping to silence the portrait of Walburga Black on their way up.

"Sorry, forgot about her," Harry mumbled, "But see here, Hermione, R.A.B," he said, pointing to a dusty plaque stuck to a door.

"Do not enter without the express permission of... Sirius' brother?" Hermione read carefully, brushing her hand over the sign to wipe away most of the dust.

Harry nodded, "He was a Death Eater, it fits. I think we've found who took the locket."

"Hang on a minute," Fred held up a hand to pause them, "I'm lost. Locket? R.A.B? What does Sirius' brother have to do with anything? I need some filling in here."

Harry and Hermione shared a glance, but eventually Harry nodded once, " All right, that's only fair since we dragged you along with us, but I'm not doing it out here. Let's take a look inside Regulus' room."

They entered and Harry locked the door behind them, casting a _Muffliato _charm for good measure. "Do you see any portraits or pictures in here, Hermione?"

"No, just the Slytherin banners and some old newspaper clippings on the wall."

"Good, no one should overhear us then."

"Geez, this bloke was pretty into his dark arts following," said Fred, peering at the clippings, "Looks to me like he was an avid follower of You-know-who."

"Not in the end," said Harry, "In the end he died to destroy him."

"From the beginning, Harry," said Hermione, taking a seat at the edge of Regulus' dusty four poster bed and patting at a spot next to her, "This may be a long story, Fred, you might want to take a seat."

OoXoO

"So let me get this straight," Fred said, pinching he bridge of his nose and sighing, "You-know-who has bits of himself stuck in random objects and we can't get rid of him 'til we find and destroy them?"

"Pretty much," said Harry.

"Seems impossible, mate."

"There does seem to be a pattern to the objects he chose. The locket was Salazar Slytherin's, and the ring was a family heirloom. I don't know what significance the diary had, but I think we can safely assume that he likes to choose important Wizarding items to make into his Horcruxes," Hermione explained.

"Yeah, Tom has a bit of a complex, that's already been established," said Harry with a rough laugh.

"It still seems impossible, where do we even start?"

"Look," said Harry, running a hand through his untidy hair, "I understand if you don't want to help. You didn't ask to be dragged along. Hermione and I can do it on our own-"

"Ron was going to help," said Fred.

"Well, yeah, but that's different, he knew what he was getting into from the start and-"

"No way, Harry. My family has always supported you. Ron might be your best mate, but as far as George and I are concerned, you're family either way. I'm in."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, "Well thanks mate, that means a lot."

"Don't mention it." Fred said with a grin, leaning back on the bed and resting on his palms.

"Shall we get back to the topic at hand then?" Hermione said with a smile, "We still need to find the locket."

Harry's good mood was quite ruined by the remembrance that, yes, they certainly did need to find the locket. "Right, well, you two take that side of the room and I'll start over here. He might have hidden it here thinking he could move it before he died."

"Beats any suggestion I've got," Fred shrugged and moved over to start checking the bedside table.

"You might try magic first," said Hermione, shaking her head and pulling out her wand to cast an _Accio _around the room.

"Maybe try _Accio_ Slytherin's locket?" Harry suggested.

"Or _Accio_ evil Horcrux?" Fred added with a grin.

Hermione uttered the incantation, but after some minutes of various wordings and numerous other locating spells failing to produce the locket, the three had to admit that they would have to conduct the search the muggle way. After an hour of failing the muggle way, they further admitted that the locket was not to be found in R.A.B's room.

"Well it has to be here somewhere!" Hermione cried, "We'll just have to search the house from top to bottom."

"Easier said than done, it could be anywhere by now," Harry grumbled, thoroughly disheartened by their lack of results.

"But there was one here in the house, remember? We found it when we were cleaning out the drawing room," Hermione began, a small smile forming at her mouth as she remembered the locket's last known location, "It was in that old cabinet. We couldn't open it so-so..." Hermione's smile dropped as she saw the look on Harry's face.

"We threw it out." Harry said, his tone flat as he realised that the locket was lost to them. It was over, they would never find the damn locket, and he would never beat Voldemort.

"Kreacher stole back heaps of things though, Harry, don't you remember? He kept putting them in his den like he was a bloody dragon guarding treasure," said Fred, his voice hopeful.

"Yeah, yeah he did, didn't he?" Harry nodded at Fred's words, "Well, we'd better find Kreacher then. Second time today, oh lucky me," he said, but the smile pulling at his lips contradicted his sarcastic tone.

"Who'd have thought, huh, Kreacher might just save the day," said Fred with a laugh, turning to Hermione and having the grace to give a guilty looking grin.

As they traipsed downstairs to find Kreacher, Harry reached for Hermione's arm and pulled her back for a moment.

"Hermione, I found some things in Sirius' room," he said, his voice sounding small and uncertain.

"What kind of things, Harry?"

"A letter from my mum, and a photo of me," he said, reaching into his pocket to pull the items out. She held his hands but didn't take the letter from him.

"Not here, Harry, why don't you show me later when it's just the two of us."

Harry smiled and nodded, "Yeah okay, later."

OoXoO

As it turned out, Kreacher was far more useful than Fred liked to admit. Not only had the house-elf stolen back the locket from the jaws of the rubbish tip, but he knew who had in turn stolen it from his pile of treasures, and had set off to track down Mundungus Fletcher to wherever the thief had holed himself up. Even Kreacher's tale of woe made Fred think that perhaps, just _perhaps_ mind, he had been too harsh on the old elf. He was still useless at cleaning though.

They spent the rest of the afternoon clearing out bedrooms for themselves and making dinner with the provisions Kreacher had so grudgingly brought for them. When night fell Harry and Hermione left Fred on his own in the sitting room. He pulled some of Hermione's books out in an attempt to busy himself, but when they didn't return some time later, he finally gave up and went upstairs to the room he had chosen for himself. The one he had shared with George in the summer before last.

He had thought that it would make it easier to stay where his twin had once been, but as he lay in bed without the familiar sounds of breathing coming from the other bed, he felt more alone than ever. He wished that Harry and Hermione had suggested they all sleep in the same room like they had the night before, but he didn't want to bring it up himself. He couldn't even remember a time when he had slept alone. Wasn't even sure if he _could_ sleep alone.

As the time dragged on and sleep remained elusive, he made up his mind.

Feeling only a slight twinge of guilt after getting along well with Harry and Hermione during the day, he brushed the feeling off and clambered out of bed. He waited until the sounds in the house were only those of the usual creaking and groaning that any old building possessed, before leaving his room and padding silently down the darkened hallways and stairs to the ground floor. Making sure he was unseen by any portraits or observers, he cast the unlocking charms on the front door and slipped out into the night, disapparating from the top step once the wards and charms had been replaced. They may be in hiding, but he was a Weasley twin; sneaking was part of his job description.


End file.
